


Charming Life, Ain't It?

by your_fetish



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:38:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_fetish/pseuds/your_fetish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A set of connected and unconnected one-shots in a slightly altered universe.  Clay/Tig/Juice and all its permutations.  Each chapter, unless noted otherwise, can be read on its own.  Some angst, some fluff, some whatever takes my fancy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charming Life, Ain't It?

Bright headlights flashed through the open curtains, sending elongated, warped shadows stretching over the walls.  From his perch on the windowsill, Juice watched Clay stiffen slightly at the intrusion, before tucking his head further into Tig’s arm.  Tig grunted softly as he adjusted to the shifted weight of Clay but beyond that neither of the sleeping men showed any signs of waking up. 

Juice let out his own sigh, turning his head back to gaze out the window.  Dawn was fast approaching, bringing soft tendrils of light to the eastern sky.  He had spent a restless night, tossing and turning before escaping the bed as soon as he was able to.  Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave the room.  It was so rare to be able to just enjoy a peaceful moment with Clay and Tig with no outside distractions.  He could just look without having to fend off Tig’s sardonic remarks or Clay’s concern. 

Behind him, Tig snorted again before smacking his lips.  When Juice turned back to the bed, Tig’s eyes were open, staring over at Juice.  The two regarded each other for several long moments, faces betraying none of their thoughts. 

Tig raised his finger to his lips before twisting out from under Clay, untangling himself from the comforter, and rising to his feet.  He padded through the doorway, the dying moonlight that shone off his naked butt serving as a beacon for Juice.  

Tig headed into the bathroom, leaving Juice to hover awkwardly in the doorway as he emptied his bladder into the toilet bowl.  After washing his hands, Tig leaned over the bathtub, flicking on the water.  It was only then that he dared to break the silence.  “You gonna join me or just watch?”

Juice’s tongue was heavy in his mouth, tasting of bitter ashes from cigarettes smoked long ago.  It took him several tries to force the words out of his mouth.  “Can’t.  Got to get dressed.  I’m supposed to do early morning repo with Opie today.  Gemma’ll have my balls if I’m late again.”

Tig offered a half-hearted shrug as he climbed under the water.  “Whatever.  Your loss.”

Juice pushed himself off the doorframe and wandered down the hall and into the spare bedroom where the personal possessions that he left at this house were stored.  He couldn’t fully commit to living with Tig and Clay, so he compromised by keeping most his stuff here, but still retaining his own place. 

Digging a pair of work pants and a TM shirt out of the closet, Juice dressed as quickly as he could.  He wasn’t kidding when he said Gemma would be pissed if he was late.  And he wanted to be out the door before Tig finished his shower and Clay woke up. 

Some days it was just easier to avoid the familiarity of their early morning rituals.  He hadn’t yet acclimated himself to the way those two moved around each other as they got ready.  A small part of him didn’t want to adjust himself to their life together.  It was better to remain aloof, that way he couldn’t be hurt when they decided they didn’t want him anymore, when they decided there wasn’t any room in their relationship for him.  It was inevitable that day was coming, it always came. 

Eventually, people realized just what they were dealing with when being in a relationship with Juice. They realized they couldn’t handle the all-night gaming marathons, his boundless energy, his relentless mood swings.  He wasn’t even that great of a lover.  He had a funny face and even stranger hair.  His fashion sucked.  He found the dumbest things entertaining and his sense of humor bordered on uncomfortable. 

Any day now Tig and Clay were going to decide that their relationship was better off without him.  The two of them had history that stretched back for years while he was just the dumb hang-around they took pity on.  His presence was forcing them to adapt, to change their lives.  _And for what?  For him?_

The drive to Teller-Morrow flashed past faster than normal.  All too soon Juice pulled into the lot, killing his engine and backing up next to Opie’s bike.  At that early of an hour, no one else was in the lot.  The shutters were still drawn on the garage, though Opie had brought the truck around the front, engine idling as he sat in the driver’s seat waiting for Juice. 

Between picking up the repos, filling out paperwork, tinkering on cars in the garage, and shooting the breeze with Opie and Chibs, the entire day flew past just like his drive that morning.

All too soon Juice found himself getting back on his bike for the ride home.  He was sorely tempted to just head back to his place and play video games all night.  He didn’t feel up to facing his lovers.  Tig hadn’t worked that day and Clay had spent the entire time he was at the garage locked in the office with JT, working out business shit.  The two of them would probably want to do something that night to work off the day’s energy.  It would be all too easy for Juice to just claim that he was too worn out to do anything but relax in his own house. 

But because he was a masochist at heart, Juice found himself steering his bike down familiar streets, ending up outside Tig and Clay’s place.  Both their bikes were already neatly parked side by side in the driveway, leaving plenty of space for Juice’s Dyna. 

No more delaying the inevitable, it was time to face the music. 

Tig and Clay were both seated on the couch when he walked in, watching some news broadcast half-heartedly, Clay’s arm slung casually over Tig’s shoulders.  They both turned in unison when they heard the sound of his boots clomping across the hallway.  Tig fumbled for the remote and muted the television without taking his eyes off Juice.  Juice shifted awkwardly under the weight of their stares. 

“Hey guys,” he offered weakly.

“What the hell you doing over there?”  Clay lifted his other arm high in the air, the invitation plain on his face.  Kicking off his boots as he walked, Juice slid under the offered arm, tucking his head onto Clay’s broad chest and lacing his fingers through Clay’s.

“Long fucking day at work.  I’m tired is all.” 

Tig unmuted the television and turned his attention back to the pretty broadcaster.  The three sat in silence for several long minutes as the news report finished up and a game show program started, bright colors flashing and loud noises blaring.  Juice felt his eyes threaten to close as he relaxed into Clay, sleep drawing over him like a well-worn blanket.

He slowly swam out of his slumber a while later, finding himself no longer being supported by Clay’s chest, but rather face down on the couch.   He could hear whispered voices accompanying the two men leaning over him.  With a heavy hand, he swatted lazily at them.  “Shuddup.  ‘M sleepin.” 

Clay chuckled low and quiet before reaching down to shake his shoulder.  “Come on, you’ll hate yourself in the morning if you fall asleep on the couch like that.  You already missed dinner, no sense in denying yourself a real bed.”

Juice just grunted in response, tucking his cheek further in the cushion.  He felt more than he saw Tig’s arms reach down to roll him over onto his back and slip under his shoulders and knees, pulling him up with a heave.  Juice let himself go lax as he swung through the air.  No sense in fidgeting now and risking Tig dropping him on the floor.  “Damn Juicy, you’re too heavy for this.”

It was a disconcerting sensation, to be carried through the hallway and into the bedroom.  Tig dumped him in the middle of the large mattress, the comforter having been stripped to the foot of the bed.  “Come on Juice.  You gotta at least take off your pants.” 

Clay’s hands took over from Tig, unbuckling Juice’s belt and yanking his pants down his legs.  His shirt proved to be a little trickier as Juice had abandoned any pretense of cooperation at that point and was just lying limply, watching the two struggle through half-closed eyes. 

Once Juice was undressed, Tig and Clay remained hovering over the bed, watching him silently.  They both had fond looks on their faces, expressions that clearly weren’t supposed to be observed by Juice.  He let his eyes slide shut all the way, hovering in that half-state between sleep and awareness.  Dimly he could hear Tig and Clay above him as they set about tucking him in and stripping out of their own clothes. 

“What do you reckon’s gotten into the kid lately?”

“I think he’s getting ready to bolt.  It’s like that shit with New York all over again.”

“Fuck.  Well, how do we stop him?  I don’t want to chase him halfway across the state.”  Despite his words to the contrary, Tig’s voice held a note of determination, a clear signal that he was willing to go wherever he had to in order to bring Juice back again.

“Gemma stopped by when I was at work earlier.  She thinks he feels unloved or unwanted or some shit like that.  Doesn’t know that he will always have a place with us.”   

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to show him.”

Tig settled down on Juice’s left side while Clay slipped in on the right.  Juice gave up any attempt at remaining awake and fell asleep, safe under the arms of Tig and Clay, content for the moment that he was where he belonged.  The morning might bring a different perspective on matters, but for now, he would take what he could get.


End file.
